


Eventualities

by aBeautifulWorld



Category: Ib (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, multiple AUs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 18,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7493226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aBeautifulWorld/pseuds/aBeautifulWorld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of snippets about first looks, second encounters and lasting impressions. It's the significance of coincidences, the endless possibilities and infinite optimism that leads one to explore the many faces of promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Train Station

**Author's Note:**

> Each of these ficlets will be set after the "Memories' Crannies" ending and be based on the question, "How would Ib and Garry meet again after all those years, if they ever do?" The lovely words are all found from this amazing tumblr blog called wordstuck. I plan to make each of these moments unique, and not just the typical "HOLY CRAP SURPRISE IT'S YOUR LOLI WAIFU" or "I MUST SAVE GARRY FROM THE EVIL THAT IS THE GUERTENA" trope that we see a lot. I like them too, don't misunderstand, but variety is golden. Ib has a lot of potential that can be explored, that isn't limited to the confines of the gallery, and I want to see more. Happy reading x

**Mamihlapinatapei**

_(n.) the wordless, yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are both reluctant to start (Yagan, Tierra del Fuego)_

He was irrevocably separate from the rest, no matter where he stood.

Garry adjusted the strap of his cello case and lightly sighed, cursing the sudden change of schedule in his string quartet's practice times. The morning train was uncomfortable, with the guilt of taking up extra space with his instrument, and yet he had little other choice to travel. He didn't mind the curious stares, he was used to it, but disliked the hush whispers that accompanied them.

He stuffed his hand into his tattered coat pocket and picked at a hole inside with his forefinger. His right toes scuffed the edge of the yellow line, before he briefly contemplated sliding his whole foot over. The appendage moved on its own. He pulled it back quickly. No one had seemed to notice his odd behaviour, being too preoccupied with their own worlds. He ran a hand through his long hair and sighed.

A rambunctious laughter rolled from the other side of the train platform.

He found the source easily enough. She was tall and tanned, wearing a private school uniform which distinguished her from the rest of the high-school students, and her long hair was tied into a high ponytail that bounced whenever she animatedly talked to her friend. The friend contrasted her, being short and pale, with chestnut hair cropped to her chin. The teenager laughed again at another quiet remark and slung her arm around the other girl, jostling both their faces into his line of sight.

He stared.

The fair young lady stared back.

She had _beautiful_ eyes, _bloody_ _red_ eyes.

Ponytail girl blinked at him and blushed, excitedly nudging to the other.

A pain gripped behind his eyes and Garry shakily massaged his temples, suppressing the sudden inexplicable urge to vomit. A vision of a nine year old child shifted into his vision when he had studied the red-eyed girl. Roses, blue and red flashed before his eyelids, images of a room full of dolls, eyeballs and headless mannequins tugging at his subconscious. He glanced back, and was startled to find an equally intense gaze settling upon him.

Her hand softly grazed the red ribbon around her collar, tugging at it gently. Her eyes closed, and then opened, the garnet shade faintly shinier than before. Ponytail girl pulled at her sleeve, now quiet and concerned at their strange communication. The teenager tilted her head at him, asking the question that plagued his own mind, the hint of a sudden sadness layering her previous impassive demeanour.

_Do I know you?_

He does. He knows her name, but he doesn't remember. Why was there a block, as if his memories were _lost_? He stared at her blankly, mute and deaf to his surroundings. She refused to look away, despite the flush that betrayed her shyness, or perhaps embarrassment. Ponytail girl shook her, and she finally surrendered. He recalled how to breathe. She glanced back.

The trains had arrived, separating them once more. The wave of passengers flowed in and out as he stood, silent and stunned.

Garry adjusted the strap of his cello case and lightly sighed, taking a step forward.


	2. School Classroom

**Honne; Tatemae**

_(n.) the contrast between a person's true feelings and desires, often kept hidden to oneself (honne) and the behaviour and opinions displayed in public to satisfy society's demands (tatemae) (Japanese)_

Ib had always been quiet; she had always been a tad shy.

Despite that, she was the exemplar student for her schoolmates. She was the one who always finished her homework or work first; excelled in everything she did and claimed the number one spot in all their exams. She was an honour student; she wouldn't act on impulse, disgrace herself, nor put her family's name in jeopardy.

Despite that, she wanted to hug him. She wanted to pull him close and breathe him in, feeling the warmth of a nearly forgotten dream materialising in front of her. Ib wanted to smile and laugh, cry and scream exactly how much she's missed him, how much she's searched for him the past seven years to no avail.

"Nice to meet you all; I'll be your new home economics teacher starting today."

The students whispered amongst themselves, an array of hushed arguments about his lavender linguistics, his lavender hair, or the way that lavender sweater fitted him _beautifully_. They would accept him easily enough eventually. Her back was rigid; her entire posture frozen in time as she listened to his introduction in the classroom. Her chest twisted with excruciating pain as he glanced by her direction, but didn't pause at all.

And in the course of a month, she deduced that he doesn't remember her at all.

Ib sandwiched her final, finished macaron together and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Her bench partner whistled low in awe at the neat rows and attracted the attention of the entire class. They cooed and crowded around her, giving out praises and claims of envy. Garry stepped into the circle to inspect her work and Ib arrogantly assumed he would smile, that calm and praising _Garry smile_ that he reserved for exceptional students in his class, as he always did the past few lessons.

He didn't. He stood very still, gaze transfixed. Ib turned her head and scuffled her feet, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

"Sensei, do you like them?"

He turned to her slowly. Something in his demeanour changed, his eyes held a spark of...

She breathed in.

_...Recognition._

Garry lifted a faintly trembling hand towards her cheek, the tips brushing softly against the long ends of her fringe. He blinked. The hand moved down quickly, away from her face. He awkwardly patted her shoulder once and took a step back. The murmurings of the class finally clicked in her own mind. He admired the colourful French treats nonchalantly, nodding to himself.

"G-Good job, Tachibana, fantastic as always."

"Thank you, sir."

He clapped his hands twice, ushering the other students back to their own work benches. For the rest of the class, and then for the rest of the week, Garry wouldn't even look at her in the eye. Ib greeted him whenever she could, tried to attract his attention being dangerously clumsy, and yet he refused to give in.

"Good morning, Tachibana."

"Be more careful, Tachibana."

"Tachibana, see me after class." She stopped in her tracks and looked back at the handsome teacher by the window.

She stepped away from the door and let the others pass. He briefly flipped through the pages of the students' reports while waiting for the room to clear. Her right hand fiddled with one of the buttons on her sweater, while she discreetly wiped her other damp palm against her skirt. She looked up at his face and bit back a choking sob at his smile. It was the warm, gentle, genuine, _Garry smile_ that she often dreamt of, comforting as a child, rewarding for her now.

"Ib." He rubbed his glossy eyes with the back of his hand, turning away once his shoulders started trembling.

She walked to him slowly, experimentally wrapping an arm around his waist. She grinned in relief when his arms tightly wrapped around her, comforting and tender. Yes, he finally _remembered_ her.

"Garry."


	3. Street Pavement

**Hanaemi**

_(n.) lit. "Flowering smile"; A smile that is as beautiful as blooming flowers (Japanese)_

"Hey!"

He groaned and scrunched his eyes shut, rolling to his side.

"Are you okay?"

Garry turned away from the insistent voice calling for him, a sudden acute pain in his wrist and side blooming. It flared in pulses, and he was in too much pain to properly communicate. He had never gone flying before, yet this situation felt all too similar. Faced down on the floor, in pain and not alone. He whimpered and shook his head, hoping the gentle presence beside him would do something, anything.

"Let me call an ambulance."

Garry gritted his teeth and nodded, before losing consciousness.

"Hi."

He opened his eyes to harsh white lights, the pain of sudden brightness shooting straight into his eyes. Garry groaned with exhaustion. He blinked several times to adjust the intensity and finally turned to his side.

He couldn't breathe.

"How are you?" The young lady sitting at his bed side gave him a small smile. Was she... _an angel_? He had never been seen a more beautiful sight. The older male behind her stood even straighter and looked him straight in the eye. He looked slightly younger than he was, but held an air of confidence that would confuse that fact. Garry nodded at them both mutely, running a hand through his light violet locks.

"U-um," He attempted to sit up, suddenly aware of his bandaged arm and the plaster on his jaw. "Where am I? What happened?"

"W-Well..." She started. She shyly looked away and he noticed her red, rose-coloured eyes.

"You ran into us." Her servant, he assumed, continued bluntly.

Garry felt his right eyebrow ticked and he sat up, attempting to garner some sort of defence for himself. "I did no such thing, I am careful when I cycle. If I remember correctly, your car... limousine... vehicle came out of nowhere. I went flying-"

"-Well maybe you should be more aware of your environment then-"

"-Then maybe _you_ should look out for cyclists just like cars-"

"-And _your_ pathetic argument is completely trite-"

"-Are you even allowed to make a left turn at that junction?"

"I'm Ib Tachibana!" The two men stopped to look at the flustered girl, "I'm very sorry for Sebastian causing you injury. Please forgive him, it wasn't intentional! My family will pay for the hospital fees and any other inconveniences for you." She bowed low and Garry turned into fifty different shades of red.

"Y-Y-You don't have to!"

"I want to!"

"H-huh? How do you know that accident wasn't partly my fault?" He heard a grunt of agreement and sent a scathing look back to the driver. He sent daggers back, as if it was Garry's fault his young mistress was bowing down to him. "I... I mean-"

"Despite how young I look, I'm studying at Law School." She sat up straight once more and swept her hair back in place. "And according to our governing road laws, Sebastian is clearly at fault. I mean," She looked tenderly at his arm, "You were even injured because of me."

The caring tone startled Sebastian and he shifted his stance again, "Do you know him, miss?"

Garry held out an uninjured hand for Ib and smiled, "She does now. I'm Garry, nice to meet you."

Her eyes widened in surprise, suspiciously glassy, and returned the gesture.

"Ib." She shook his hand firmly and chuckled, that pretty smile of hers blossoming like a flower once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was more dramatic in my head, but with the time constraints, this still turned out nicely. I didn't plan on a snarky chauffeur, heheheh.


	4. Summer Festival

**Kefi**

_(n.) the spirit of joy, enthusiasm, high spirits and frenzy, in which good times and passion for life are expressed with an abundance of excitement, happiness and fun (Greek)_

The little girl looked at the broken _poi_ and gritted her teeth, thrusting another hundred yen to the stall keeper. The old man bent down to her eye-level with some difficulty and gave a kind smile.

"You've been working very hard, and been very generous, so why don't I give you two goldfish for free?"

She shook her head adamantly and probed the old man again with the money. He eyed the eight other broken paper scoopers on his counter and sighed, accepting the fee. The adults surrounding her grinned and cooed at her determination, having never seen someone take goldfish scooping so seriously.

She accepted the new _poi_ graciously with the nod of her head and held the frame slightly above the water. She gulped. Her scoop dipped slowly into the water, before snatching the targeted goldfish out. She held the scoop up to the white light of the stall lamp and gasped. Her eyes widened, she gave a bright smile. The fish in the paper scooper wiggled and then...

It plopped back into the pool.

Her lower lip trembled.

"You might want to put it in the bowl before the _poi_ breaks, little one." A slim person in a white leaf printed dark blue _yukata_ squatted next to her on the right. She leaned a little forward, trying to see more of the person's face under all that purple hair.

"Here." They handed another hundred yen note to the stall keeper, receiving a new _poi_ in exchange. He turned to face her and peek-a-boo, a single eye crinkled at her. "You're really cute, and I hate it when cute little kids cry, so leave it to _onii-chan_ , k?"

"O... kay." She shifted a little to make room for the pretty man.

"Okay! Let's do this!" He gave a loud battle cry, and attacked.

He tried again.

And again.

And... again.

"O-once more... please?" He bowed his head in shame and the old man behind the counter suppressed a snigger, hiding his wide smile behind the prepared new _poi_.

" _Onee-san_... you're actually terrible at goldfish-scooping aren't you?" The young man slapped a hand over his heart and grimaced, adjusting his position to ease his aching knees.

"It's _onii-chan_!" He replied indignantly. The little girl tugged at his short _yukata_ sleeve and shook her head, silently conveying that he's already done enough for her. The sadness in her rose red eyes though, the desire to win that goldfish out of skill, not pity, only solidified his resolve.

"Seriously little one, how about three goldfish for free?"

"One more!" He jumped up and thrust the hundred yet to the old man. "C'mon sir! Let me make a little lady very happy tonight."

The little girl shook her head and stood by the old man, waiting for the final game to start. The young man winked at her and squatted over the goldfish pool, waiting for his chance to strike. She closed her eyes with her hands, unable to watch him suffer the humiliation any further.

"Little lady."

Her eyes peaked out in between her fingers.

"I've got something for you." His arm moved into her field of view and held up not one, not two, but _three_ goldfishes for her in a little plastic bag. "C'mon, cheer up! It's a disservice to your cute face to sulk and hide like that!"

She gasped, bringing the fish a little closer to inspect them. The words rang a soft familiarity in her.

"Congrats, son," said the kind old man as he collected all the broken paper scoopers.

He grinned at the stall keeper and made a cute pose with a peace sign. "Heheh, I can do anything I set my mind to!"

The little girl pulled at his sash and he looked down, exuding almost unimaginable amounts of pure joy through that smile and single eye alone.

"Are you happy now, little one?"

A faint hint of a blush on her face, she nodded. The orange glow of the summer festival lanterns, the shining stars in the ink blank night gave the atmosphere a cosy, relaxed atmosphere, completely different from the tense, competitive mood from before. She smiled and tugged again.

"Do you want to watch the fireworks with me, mum and dad?" the quiet voice spoke out. He watched the goldfishes hanging from her hand, swirling in the tiny space. He smiled and took the hand she held out, swinging it gently.

"Sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garryyouadorablelittleloliconshit. When you're feeling down, onii-chan will save the day! T'was not stated, because I couldn't find a place for it, but this is set about a year after the Guertena Gallery incident :3 The italicised Japanese words are translated below for your convenience.
> 
> Poi - special paper scooper used in goldfish scooping games.
> 
> Yukata - Traditional clothing made out of light material, usually worn during the summer or during festivals.
> 
> Onii-chan - Big brother, affectionate use.
> 
> Onee-san - Big sister, used for respect.


	5. Daycare Reception

**Raxeira**

_(n.) line drawn by the sunlight on the floor as it filters through the window (Galician)_

"Garry-san."

'So pretty, like freshly bloomed lilies.'

"Garry-san."

'Taken, obviously. She's a parent after all, they look too much alike.'

"Dude."

He leaned a little to the left, subconsciously considering the repetitive white noise bothering him. "Hn?"

The blonde man poked his cheek, not so gently nudging the boss out of his reverie. He turned to his employee sharply, venom seeping through his voice. "What?"

"Stop staring at her, man."

Garry's cheeks smouldered into a delicate shade of pink when he looked back at his old college roommate. He should have hired someone younger, who didn't know him as closely and call him out on his stranger habits. He subtly glanced back at the woman who looked far younger than his usual clientele.

"I am _not._ "

David smirked at the owner of the Sunshine Day-care Centre, the cocky expression mocking him with a sarcastic, 'Uh-huh, _sure_.'

Garry sent a scathing look to the man with one lone demonic eye, silently warning him about his informal behaviour and pay check. David visibly gulped and shakily saluted him, going back to opening the blinds. The little ones almost craved the sun, and it was a glorious morning.

"Good morning," Garry whipped back to the desk, heart pounding in shock from her sudden closeness. She had finished talking to the other parents _already_?

"Good morning!" He plastered his most professional smile, despite the damp hands he was discreetly wiping onto his jeans. "You must be a new parent. Would you like to drop off the little one here?"

Her face flushed red.

"Ah, yes, please." He passed her a form from the _New Client_ pigeon hole to fill out the young boy's details and her emergency contacts. He slid the pen towards her and leaned over the counter to smile at the new boy that would be joining the others today.

"Hey there," The boy shrunk beneath the lady's white skirt, shyly gazing up with... scarlet eyes? Garry pushed on, regardless. "Excited for today?"

"Sorry, he's a bit shy, and very quiet." Garry smiled back at her and shook his head, shrugging off her apology.

"It's perfectly alright. Children can be quite shy." Looking back at the form, Garry froze. Her penmanship was _flawless_. He always had trouble reading the chicken scrawl that most people flaunted to his face, so he could very well say he was absolutely _**in love**_ with her beautiful handwriting.

Gazing at the hand that formed such gorgeous characters, his heart stopped for a fraction of a second.

She wrote with her left hand.

She had no gold band.

She had _no gold band_.

"Here." She slid the form back with a grace that was not lost on Garry.

"Thank you." He scanned over certain particulars.

_Name: Roy Tachibana_

_Name of guardian: Ib Tachibana_

_Relationship: Older sister_

His widened eyes met her startled ones and he coughed slightly to the side, "N-nice to meet you, Tachibana-san." With all of his nervousness building earlier, the sudden malfunction of his heart and his brain, one glaringly obvious fact didn't register. She had glittering, garnet eyes too. "Roy-kun, let's have lots of fun today."

The shy little boy nodded.

"David!"

"Yo!" The blonde man swept in from another room, eagerly waving at the two before offering his hand to the boy. The little boy looked up at his sister, who smiled reassuringly. He blinked at the hand owlishly before slipping his tiny fingers out of his sister's hold and into the older man's hand.

"I'll see you at four, darling." He nodded and gave his sister a kiss on the cheek. The little boy waved her goodbye just before they entered the playroom with the other children.

"Thank you for everything," She turned back to him. It was only the two on them in the reception room now. All the other parents had left.

"Sure." He slid out behind the desk to walk her outside, answering any further queries she may have, "Your brother is in good hands, trust me."

"I know." The words flew out almost automatically. Ib blinked, almost surprised herself. "I-I mean." She tapped on her lips, constructing her next sentence seriously. She glanced back at him. "You've got good reviews from my older friends. And I've never seen Roy become so attached to someone so quickly. And, ah, the atmosphere in here is light... and cosy..."

"I'm glad you think so, Tachibana-san."

She looked up to the bright clouds, seemingly lost in thought. The sunbeams danced through her hair, achingly familiar, "It's an amazing day today. The sun's really shining, huh?"

"I'm glad to see it every day," Garry mumbled quietly to himself, "It's comforting."

"It is."

Glancing back at the woman, he resisted the sudden impulse to sling his arm over her shoulder and pull her close. Her eyes were closed, lips curved into a small smile at the soft breeze fluttering by. Her brilliant garnet eyes shone once more and turned to him, expressing... gratitude? Garry didn't think it was for taking care of her brother though; it seemed too familiar for two people who had just met.

"I'll come back at four."

He nodded, "I'll see you then."


	6. Supermarket Aisle

**Tebar Pesona**

_(v.) trying to get strangers' romantic attentions by dressing up and looking good; lit. "Spreading charm" (Indonesian)_

She was breathing too deeply, the oxygen in her bloodstream creating a faint sense of high, drool almost dripping out of her mouth. Ib shook her head in amusement and tugged her friend towards the fruits section. The girl gave a half-hearted protest, not wanting to lose sight of her "prince".

"Are you alright?"

"He's so attractive," she whined, "So freaking gorgeously attractive."

Taking a few steps back, Ib frowned at the lack of people in the previous aisle. She was about to retort before her tall, athletic friend clamped on her arm like a vice, suddenly shaking her.

"Ibbi," Her eyes held a manic gleam, "Ib. Ib. Ib. Ib-"

Glancing over her friend's shoulder, she held back a threatening bubble of laughter. The man Suki was previously undressing with her eyes was right there... on the other side of the aisle. He was too far away for Ib's vision (she envied her friend's 20/20) but she had a rough idea of what he looked like.

"He's definitely your type: K-pop/J-pop pretty boys."

Her red face said it all.

Ib perused through the apples available, while Suki inconspicuously used her compact mirror to check on her makeup... and other things. She let out another squeal of delight.

"What is it?" Fujis were surprisingly cheap today. Should she buy one or two bags of apples?

She let out a quiet moan, "I love how thin his top is."

"It's summer, he must be hot."

"He is." She gasped, a blush razing through her tan skin, "Oh my word, Ib. Look at his-IB!"

"What is it?" Two apple bags it is. She could always make apple sauce. "Hey Suki, do you want oranges too, because I've already got-"

Ib was violently yanked around to the previous tall man standing near the vegetable baskets. She could see a rose tattoo, encircling his left wrist like dual bracelets, red and blue roses circled and intertwined. His finger tapped on his chin, while curly, messy hair covered the right side of his face. She couldn't see his eyes.

Ib turned to her love-struck friend, "Are you interested in his decision to buy carrots or turnips?"

"No, silly," she replied in hushed tones, "Look at his jeans."

She hummed, "Tight."

"I know, that—Oh, that... Mmmm." she sighed dreamily, "And his boots."

"Oranges?"

"No thank you."

Ib smiled and disentangled herself from her ecstatic friend, walking calmly towards the biscuits section to leave Suki to her gawking.

"Say, ginger biscuits, or do you want to try the butter cookies this time?"

Again, her arm was brutally harassed by a tight grip, and a wild grin lit Suki's face. "How do you not find him attractive? He's so sexy."

Ib patted her head, even though she only reached up to her chin, "Too busy thinking about my empty stomach."

"Not your type, huh?"

Suki grabbed the butter cookies and the chocolate chips and dumped them into their basket, playfully sticking out her tongue at Ib's annoyed face. She grabbed the other handle, balancing the weight between the two of them. "I bet you like the dark and mysterious Victorian gentlemen: Mr. Darcy, Mr. Rochester, Heathcliff."

"Gentlemen, yes. Dark and mysterious, no." Ib chuckled. She hasn't been in love since she was a little girl and it's been about fifteen years now. She didn't even remember where she met him. "Besides, Heathcliff wasn't really a gentleman."

"Anti-hero?"

"No, Byronic hero, but he doesn't really fit into any archetype."

Suki nodded, but didn't entirely comprehend.

The two walked on. Suki patted her short skirt down, and adjusted her high ponytail lightly with her hands. They turned a corner.

"We may see him at the cashier. Do you think he'll like me? He seems a few years older." Ib turned back to Suki while continuing to walk, unfazed by the return of her favourite topic. She smiled at her, looking at her straight in the eyes.

"You're a star; don't let anyone tell you other—UFFF!"

Ib's grip on the basket handle vanished and Suki dropped the basket out of surprise. Ib stumbled backwards, someone darted forward. The hand on her arm was strong, yet gentle.

"I'm so sorry, are you alright?"

"F-Fine." She looked up into warm dark eyes and... She felt her face warm up as he released his grip. He bent down to help Suki retrieve the fallen groceries, much to the other girl's bewilderment.

Hot... damn. Suki was right.

He turned back, lone eyebrow furrowed. "I'm very sorry about that, I was... distracted."

She shook her head vehemently, needing to erase his guilt. "It's alright, I'm really fine."

"That's good to hear." He stood a little awkwardly, staring at her face closely. She was drawn, hypnotised. His lips parted, almost to say something else, before it softly retreated. "I... ah." Suki slid closer, basket in hand. "I'm sorry. Have a nice day."

He turned to leave. A watch and several thin bracelets were wrapped around his wrist as he held up his right hand: a peace offering and goodbye. Ib blinked at the large scar spanning his entire palm.

As two young adults watched him depart, Suki turned to her.

"He likes you." She deadpanned.

Ib gave her an incredulous look. She took her phone out and took a step forward. "Why do I... suddenly feel like we've seen him somewhere before?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of famous youtuber Cryaotic in his LP of Ib, "Garry, you're so f*cking dreamy, every teenage girl wants you in their pants." And Cry is a guy :3 So Suki pretty much represents the fandom. And which reviewer can tell me what is special about this particular piece? ;) Take care!


	7. Bar Counter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For extra feelings, listen to Erik Satie's Gymnopedie No. 1 while reading.

**Toska**

_(n.) a state of great anguish, melancholy, sorrow or longing beyond bearable bounds (Russian)_

It was far past closing time and the only lights still lit were the glow of the back bar. The young bar maid was wiping her already pristine beer mugs, keeping one last patron company. The man was hunched over, nursing his alcohol. How many times have they gone through this cycle?

"I wonder if she's still inside." Garry laid his head on his hand, swirling the liquor in his glass slowly. "I wonder if she's still alive."

"I'm sure she is."

How many more times would she endure this for him? Entertaining the patron with no clue as to what he rambled on about. He sat up a little, running a shaky hand through his hair. His vision was blurry, and the sight he could barely focus on was glass. The glass that cradled his drink, the fancy glass bottles on the back bar that would surely numb his pain, the glass cage that held a world he could never return to. He stroked the rim gently, almost reverently. He was lost, drowning in the dull pain of his own chest.

"I should never have left."

"I'm sure you had no choice."

He hated the shatter of glass, the stinging burn of a cut from sharp edges, the suffering it brings. He gripped his wine glass tightly, increasing his strength, wondering if the fragile, _fragile_ thing would break. His knuckles turned white. His whole arm trembled from the force. A delicate hand laid over his and he momentarily relaxed before jerking back, letting go completely, shunning the physical contact.

"Was it right for me to go first?"

"I don't know."

Garry heard footsteps, sluggishly looking back at the large guard of the bar. His head bounce in lazy nod of acknowledgment. Somehow in his sluggish mind, he always knew to thank the man for graciously letting him stay longer. He nodded back. The guard traded a few quiet words with the bar maid, too soft to enter his heavy skull. Head dropping to the wooden counter, another thought crossed his mind. He heard the door close. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"I wonder if she ever made a friend, if she ever escaped with someone else."

For once, there was a slight hesitation before her answer, "I'm sure she's a smart girl, she may have."

He opened his eyes. His nails scratched the expensive wood top of the counter, as Garry revelled in the pain in his nail bed. He let out a single strangled sob, before collapsing back into a lifeless heap. He grinded his back teeth, eyes clenched shut, face contorted into one of complete misery. He was exhausted beyond relief, but he was beyond help now.

"Why..."

The delicate hand ran through his long, tousled hair, soft and gentle. It stroked his temple, the tender caress slowly soothing his restlessness. "I don't know."

"Why did it burn down? Why burn an art gallery down?"

"I don't know."

He lifted his head, glossy eyes shifting to the woman in front of him.

"I didn't come back in time..."

She had a kind face and a boy cut that brought out how large her brown eyes were. He saw double. He screwed his eyes shut at the incoming bout of nausea. He couldn't focus. He couldn't do anything. Garry was so tired, so very tired of living through day to day like a machine, coming here each night to drown his pain over an incident almost ten years old.

"It's not your fault-"

"I couldn't save her."

Tears escaped through the eyes clamped shut, the alcohol bringing out the worst in him. She fell silent.

"I couldn't save her. I should never have left," He could feel himself drifting, back to a black oblivion that only sleep blessed him. "I'm so sorry, Ib..." He closed his eyes. "So... very... sorry..."

The delicate hand brushed his tears away.

His irregular breathing finally slowed into deep and smooth intervals, signalling the end of his consciousness. The bar maid's chin trembled, her eyes taking a glossy sheen. The man guarding the bar came back inside, eyes dropping to the man slumped over the bar counter.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded, eyes still fixated on the sleeping man. She leaned over to kiss him on the temple, stroking his brow gently. "Please make sure he gets home safely, Oliver."

"Yes, young miss." Hauling the man up, Oliver turned back to the hunched over bar maid, pointing to one of his eyes. She understood the signal. Her crying had shifted the position of her contacts again.

"Thank you."

He nodded and left her to her own devices. She walked out from behind the bar, hand caressing the wooden texture. She sat in Garry's stool, drowning in Garry's words, his guilt, his sorrow. She didn't know what to do anymore. A tear fell into her lap, regret overflowing her heart.

"I should never have stayed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... sorrynotsorry :3 Questions to the readers! 1. Who is the barmaid? 2. Who is the guard? 3. What do you think happened?
> 
> Yeap, this will probably be the only chapter which did not get a Memories' Crannies ending. I actually really wanted to do this one too in the midst of all the fluffiness the past chapters offered, so, variety! Hurrah! Take care x


	8. University Hall

**Babi Leto**

_(n.) lit. "old hag's summer"; a short period between summer and autumn, when the weather is still sunny but not hot, the leaves begin to change colour to yellow and little strings of spider webs are floating in the air (Czech)_

Garry gently shook his head, brushing off the smaller Koyo that had promptly gathered on his long curly hair. Picking up one leaf to examine closer, Garry smiled softly and leaned back against the Japanese maple, continuing to scroll through his email.

Art deals

More art deals

A remainder from his sister about her son's graduation ceremony

Garry snapped his phone shut and massaged his temples. His jaw ached from clenching up far too many times the past few days at his sister's utter obsession with her job. She was the one who emailed him about the ceremony, but where was she now? Sure, graduations weren't a huge deal in Japan, but Garry wouldn't miss any events in his nephew's life, unlike his overly ambitious career woman of a mother.

Honestly.

Garry knew there wouldn't be as many graduates during the autumn season compared to the spring, but that would only make his search easier. The doors to the hall opened and out bounced a flurry of students, excitedly cheering and chatting amongst themselves. They didn't have a care or _worry_ in the world. Garry grinned at their enthusiasm, at their naivety and innocence.

They won't know what hit them.

One particular boy stood out, especially to Garry, since he was his person of interest. He was tall, handsome and had light brown hair which curled in all sorts of directions. He looked like a younger, much more vibrant version of Garry, even without the splash of colour to his locks. The older man clasped his hand over his heart, proud of the boy that grew up so fast.

Before Garry could wave to him, his nephew dashed off to the back of the crowd, where a young lady clad in hakama purposely walked behind the crowd, enjoying the beautiful weather.

He greeted her politely, but his smile lit up the entire campus for them both. Garry arched an eyebrow, wanting to know exactly the type of person who would make his nephew head over heels in love.

"Hey, isn't that—"

"Oh my God, yeah I think so!"

Whipping around at the not so subtle whispering, two young men quickly walked away. Garry grimaced and sighed, pushing his large sunglasses up onto the top of his head. His cover was blown; there wasn't much of a point to them at this point.

"Uncle!"

' _Finally_ ', Garry thought. Turning around to face his nephew, he was suddenly crushed by a bear hug by a man who was _still_ inches shorter than him.

"Oi!" he gasped. Garry secured his forearms around his nephews back and squeezed even harder. The boy exhaled sharply, suddenly patting the older man in a desperate gesture of 'I surrender.'

"Yo." He smirked, probably looking more like an older brother than a serious, well-to-do uncle. They were only nine years apart in age afterall. "Took you long enough to find a man with purple hair. It's been a while."

"Yeah, it has." The boy stepped back, respectfully bowing, grinning the whole time. "You kept telling me you were busy, but managed to come anyway."

He shrugged, keeping his eyes happily crinkled despite knowing exactly what the younger man was implying. "My nephew tops all."

"Thanks," the shy, precious smile he gave almost melted Garry's heart. "Uncle, do you remember what we talked about, a few months back? There's someone I want you to meet." His voice was gleeful, a slightly nervous tremor layered with the excitement. Garry's lips twitched at the younger man's faintly pink cheeks before plastering a professional demeanour. The young lady from earlier stepped forward behind his nephew, shyly nodding her head at Garry. "This is Ib Tachibana, she graduated at the top of our year."

"Nice to meet you," he nodded, strangely fascinated by the red tint of her eyes. Her pale skin contrasted the burning shade of the autumn leaves whilst her eyes complemented them. He now knew why his nephew was so enamoured with her. She was different from the rest; there was a refined air about her and although she respectfully kept her head down, there was sharpness in her eyes that he rarely saw in graduates these days.

"Tachibana-san, this is—"

"—Your uncle, Garry Matsuoka, famous abstract painter. Please to meet you."

She was way too sharp.

Garry smiled and folded his arms, pleased to meet a new challenger. His nephew had picked a very interesting choice as his soon to be apprentice. She was very interesting indeed.


	9. Care Home

**L'appel du vide**

_(n.) lit. "the call of the void"; the instinctive urge to jump from high places, especially when one is close to the edge of a cliff or building (French)_

There is a boy who takes care of my baby.

She had always been a quiet child, but she had inquisitive, twinkling eyes that questioned and absorbed the world around her. Although she was a shy little girl growing up, she never isolated herself from others, always taking a step forward to explore what's right in front of her.

Her gaze now is flat, expressionless. Her emotions are a mess. Without warning she would giggle or start sobbing and barely get any sort of rest. She used to be sharp, intelligent, a wonderful daughter that anyone would be proud of. Gradually, she receded, changed. She no longer seemed a young lady of eighteen. She can barely take care of herself now; she can barely concentrate in a social setting and would explode if anyone dared to express or even imply these concerns.

We had lost her to herself.

"No, not lost," the doctor says. "She needs time", he says, "Time, medication, plenty of rest and encouragement from the people she loves."

And so we asked for an assistant for her, someone who could take care of her when neither my husband nor I can afford the time to tend to _every single one_ of her needs and fancies. We had enough trouble keeping our business empires afloat during these troubling times. We needed a professional to help us through this.

And so he came.

He, a boy, barely a decade older than her, came to comfort us and her.

He is respectful of her, ensuring she is comfortable and her bedroom door is always open when he is inside. I can see how he grows attached to her over time, how excited and enthusiastic he becomes when there is even an inch towards recovery for her.

"She made eye contact with me today."

"We managed to stay on topic for about five minutes. Soon enough she can talk and make small talk all by herself."

Her father is just happy, I'm… _envious._

I sighed, chest growing tighter and breaths coming in shorter with each footstep towards the gardens where she and the boy were admiring nature together. " _Nature is very calming for some people,"_ he says, " _It helps keep some people grounded and others at peace with themselves."_

She and the curly-haired lavender boy are sitting on the gazebo, a shawl draped loosely atop of her shoulders to protect her from the seasons. He was sitting beside her, uncharacteristically hunched over, fingers dreamily twirling the end of his long fringe. I was about to call out to them when his soft, trembling voice stilled me.

"You know Ib, sometimes I wonder." He tucked a single red rose, free of thorns, into her hair. She remained still as a statue, the brightest expression on her face probably a vacant stare. "If it really is schizophrenia… or if the gallery just broke you."

_What…?_

"Everything you say is nonsense to other people, to me too sometimes… bit if I think hard enough, I can just about make out what your mind wants to express, what those whispering voices tell you."

I couldn't move a muscle. What was I hearing? I have never before seen this side to the perpetually cheerful young man, always optimistic about his charge. If I questioned him directly now, I may never hear the rest of the story. So I stayed, I listened.

"Starry… night. Candy."

My baby's monotone voice broke my heart, her head sinking onto her chest, hunching over and mimicking the young man. He immediately noticed and corrected her position, gently propping her up again. Her rose fell in the process.

"Easy there, sweetheart." Tucking the stem back into the crook of her ear, his hands paused and he sucked in a breath, shoulders now trembling. Wrapping his arms around her, he slowly, hesitantly pulled her to him, shoulders shaking. Being behind them, I couldn't see his expression, but I could feel his sorrow.

She didn't respond. She neither pushed him away, nor did she embrace his touch.

"I won't ever give up on you, Ib." He pulled back, setting a respectable distance from her again. I could see his hands going back to his face, probably wiping any stray tears away, avoiding any prying questions. "You're going to get better. And when you do, we can meet properly this time, okay?"

"Yes."

He froze. He laid a hand on her shoulder, leaning in closer. "Ib?"

"Snow. Ice-cream."

He took in a deep, shuddering breath and sat even straighter, "We can have some ice-cream after lunch, if you want, dear." His voice had become much calmer, the hollowness finally dissipated. I continued forward, grasping every ounce of bravery I had in me.

"Garry-san." He turned around at the sound of my voice and gave a bright smile. I did not comment on the slight red in his eyes, nor did he ask when I arrived as he usually did, "Thank you for your good work today."

His smile had become strained, his eyes no longer matching the expression of his lips, "It's always a joy working here, madam. Your gardens are very beautiful."

"How is she today?"

"Well… when we walked outside today, she said, 'Cold' for the first time since we started going out for fresh air a few months back. I think it's another step."

"Oh?" His voice wasn't as positive. I stood in front of Ib and pulled her to me, stroking her soft hair. She did not greet me, merely closing her eyes at the warmth. I took it in stride, claiming it at another victory. "But she _is_ getting better, isn't she?"

He nodded.

"Honestly, I don't care if it is disorganised schizophrenia liked the doctor said, or if it was this… _gallery_ thing you talked about." His eyes widened in horror, suddenly realising just how long I had been around for. I did not smile; he did not say another word. "As long as you're helping her, as long as she returns to her normal self, I won't ask.

"But once everything is well, you will tell me. Understand?"

We stared at each other in mutual understanding, a new level of trust presented between a mother and a helper. He nodded once more and I gave a resigned sigh, entrusting the young man with my little girl once more.


	10. Book Fair

**Abibliophobia**

(n.) a fear of running out of reading materials (English)

_She ? in ? as he ? his hips and hit just the right spot._

" _I love you!" She cried, with shaky breaths and ? eyes full of love, "I love you so much!"_

_He responded by bending over and kissing her back, ? his ? all over her ? neck. "You complete me," he whispered into the shell of her ear, "I will love you for ? and never let you go. Please."_

_She ? harder and grasped his hand, "Please! Please-"_

The book was swiftly taken from her hands and snapped shut with a thud. The person squatting beside her was bright scarlet, a nervous chuckle resonating from his throat and a horrified look in his eyes. The little girl blinked at him, tilting her head at the blushing man and the red paperback in his hand.

"Y-you know…" he looked away and she looked around, just noticing how many women were staring at the man beside her. They almost looked… hungry? She wondered why. He stood up to his full height, towering over her, "You shouldn't be reading books like this until you're older."

Ib turned back towards the man she accidently bumped into and stood up herself. Her nose was stuck inside her book when she quite literally bumped into him, tipping his basket over. Muttering her apologies out of embarrassment, she stooped down to pick up one of the three open books when she was intrigued. Her eyes were drawn to the passage, to a new world of words, to a world she had never seen before.

It was perhaps unfortunate to them both that she was a relatively fast reader now, albeit her still developing vocabulary.

She noted how large the frame of his glasses were, how the red nose of Rudolph the reindeer on his hand-knitted sweater matched exactly how flushed he was. She was mesmerised, although her neck ached from looking up at him. Giving out a loud sigh, he turned to her curiously, offering a tentative smile. He jerked his head to the left, finger pointing to the mystery section.

"Shall we talk there? It's a bit… uncomfortable here."

They set off together, her eyes never shifting off the man with curly lavender hair. He cringed from her stare, giving her a puzzling one of her own.

"What is it? You're starting to creep me out."

The question rung inside her, but she was too preoccupied at the moment. She pointed up, blinking as she asked, "Why is there a spider on your head?"

To which he screamed and ravaged his hair with his hands, brushing every curly lock into furious, frizzy, frenzy. She watched with wide eyes at the terror on his face, the panic in his voice sending the innocent passerby into a state of shock.

"IS IT GONE?"

"No… it's kind of… attached." His hands slowed down almost instantaneously and he seethed, hanging his head in defeat, all efforts halted. He looked squarely at her and picked a single dark lock, the leg to the "spider" she was referring to.

"Where you talking about this?"

She nodded.

"It's my hair."

"Oh."

She heard the giggles of the people nearby and her cheeks turned warm, her expression darkening. The older man smoothed his hair back into its normal position and looked down at the child visibly embarrassed, her knuckle almost white from her grip on the basket.

"Your basket looks quite heavy," She looked down at the amount of books she carried. Most of them were light paperbacks, but the sheer number of them did bear a lot of weight. His voice was gentler, protective now. "You should set it down, take a break."

She did as she was told then took a step towards the mystery table and the books presented. Her eyes almost glittered with excitement, her tiny hands softly caressing the smooth front covers of _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_. She heard the older man step beside her, looking at the books over her shoulder. She looked up and he smiled down, the same curiosity and anticipation present behind his huge glasses. "Have you read Sherlock Holmes?"

She shook her head, eyes wide and inquisitive, "Is it good?"

"Very."

She beamed at him and picked up the heavy hardcover, setting it onto her pile of books. She couldn't wait to go home and try it out.

"Are you lost?"

She looked back at his serious tone, the voice of an adult. She shook her head.

"Looking for your parents?"

She shook her head.

He tilted his head, his mouth forming a grim line. She copied him and he broke into a small chuckle. "What are you doing then?"

"I'm exploring."

"I see. Do your mother and father know?" She nodded again. "I see. Do you know where to find them?" Another nod. He sighed in relief, knowing that she would probably be alright. If her parents were to just let her explore on her own, she would be more mature than she looked. He should just look out for her until she decided to go back.

"What books are you going to buy?"

"Me?" He lifted his own basket for her to see, grinning, showing off pearly white teeth. The books stacked inside were much larger, thicker, some with a hardcover and some that looked flimsy. "I've got all sorts of books: gardening books, architecture books-"

"What's that?"

"It's… ah." She watched him scratch his cheek, pausing for a second to gather his thoughts, "Architecture books are books about buildings, beautiful buildings."

She smiled brightly and he continued, "I've got books about art, cook books, books about photography and… romance novels."

"Romance novels?" She blinked as his face turned about seven shades of pink, trying to discreetly shift the red paperbacks from earlier out of her view.

"Yeah." He chuckled nervously, eyes looking everywhere but her. "Romance novels."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Romance novels indeed, Garry.


	11. Alleyway Gravel

**Kaze Hikaru**

_(n.) a warm breeze of spring that follows after a dark cold winter, comes and breathes gently on the skin, as if like a shining radiance (Japanese)_

Garry hacked the phlegm out of his system, chills running down his spine.

Shifting the position of his legs, he groaned, pain pulsing throughout his hips, a dull ache _everywhere_ and physical exertion wearing him out. Tasting copper in his mouth, he spat to the side. The dark red stuck to the gravel, splattering onto the brick wall. Garry grimaced and wiped his chapped lips with the ends of his dirty coat sleeve.

How the mighty have fallen.

Well, at least the gentlemen did not carry knives with them at the time.

Despite the shallow hacking cough, despite the blue and black flowers blooming on his arms, Garry shakily slid out a single cigarette and lighter from his coat pocket. Breathing the heavy toxins in deeply, Garry finally expelled the wispy tendrils of smoke when his lungs and throat protested from the effort. The nicotine rush overshadowed the faint burning. He sighed and then chuckled when a clearer, frostier smoke puffed from his mouth, without the aid of the cancer stick. How he loved winter.

Attempting to sit up again, he soon gave up as the dull ache suddenly pulsed into a sharp intolerable _throb_. Nestling the cigarette between his lips, he settled back against the brick wall, his resolve to get up shattered. What does it matter?

Nobody needed him.

Nobody wanted him.

He was just another outcast, beaten up to a pulp outside of this fine drinking establishment that attracted and catered to homosexual men. He was just another unfortunate victim to his own alcohol laced sharp mouth and sass, taken out to be taught a lesson.

Garry glanced at the large dumpsters nearby.

He was just taken out like trash.

Disposable

Worthless

For the past twenty five years of his life, he hasn't been much of an anything. Just another person taking up space and oxygen. And valuable alcohol. Garry looked up to the grey, gloomy sky and closed his glossy eyes. Being so close to the dumpster, maybe he would give people less problems when they find his cold _sleeping_ figure.

It would be for the best.

Footsteps

Coming closer

A warm, gentle hand caressed his cut cheek and he opened his eyes slowly to doe-like, garnet ones. He jerked back and gasped from shock, then spat out his cigarette from another hacking cough that racked through his body. He groaned as the numbing pain across his lower back returned. He started to slip to the side before the girl supported him, keeping him upright.

They stared at each other; Him a panting, bloody mess; She a quiet, curious creature. He blinked first then looked away in shame.

She retrieved something from her pocket and pressed it against his bruised and cut cheek, caused by a backhand with a ring. The soft fabric brushed along his skin, soaking up the crimson ribbon without any thought for its material by its owner.

"That's real lace, isn't it?"

She gazed into his eyes and he sighed, resting a hand over hers. "You don't have to—"

"I want to."

"Why?"

She slipped her hand from under his, making sure that he still applied pressure to the wound. She shrugged and began to unravel her scarf, revealing a pink turtleneck underneath her bulky coat and thick brown hair styled in twin pigtails. The thick woolly fabric of the scarf was wrapped around his own bare neck. He swallowed thickly, nearly crying from how warm it was.

"Why help some beaten up hobo in some shady looking alley?" he asked again, his voice tight and cracked.

Her hands paused before resuming their task, eyes set and determined. "Because I won't let you go this time."

He looked up at the woman in question, her soft manner of speaking strangely familiar. "What?"

She smiled and shook her head. There would be plenty of time to talk after he got help. "Let's get you to a hospital."

He watched her take out her phone, speaking in clear, calm tones, helping some stranger she thinks she knows. He breathed in deeply and looked at the winter sky, somehow less grey, somehow bluer.

He looked back down to her curious doe-eyes, felt the lace handkerchief once again and smiled, counting every single one of his blessings. Beginning now.

Bless the girl.


	12. Playground Seesaw

**Tukorsima**

_(adj.) lit. "as smooth as the surface of the mirror"; describes a still water which has unbroken surface, neither by wind nor by some object or animal (Hungarian)_

She gazed at the boys who wrecked her snowman, as they laughed like hyenas that had cornered their prey. Looking back at the mush of snow and stones, she was suddenly pushed to the ground with jeering and sneering. She fisted the snow, her small hand crushing it into a roughly spherical shape.

Her expression did not change, calm and collected as before.

"What's wrong with you, Tachibana?" the leader screamed at her. She knew he hated her, forever picking on her and trying to rile her up. "Aren't you angry? Scared?"

"Not really." She stood up and brushed the snow off her coat with her other hand before the boy suddenly grabbed her by the fringe, pulling her close to him.

"Are you scared now?" Finally, her eyes widened a fraction, but her overall expression did not change.

"Not really." He snarled at her, his other two friends looking at each other nervously.

"Hey man, do we really gotta-"

"Oi." A young man with purple hair suddenly appeared, towering over the leader, draped in a bright rainbow scarf, "Get your paws off her."

The boy grabbing her hair visibly paled, his grip instantly loosening. Ib stepped back, righting her dishevelled coat and scarf. The tension between the man and boy was tangible, the frown on the man's beautiful face thickening the air with disappointment and disapproval. The leader of the boys took in a deep breath, arching his back to look at least menacing.

"O-Or what? You gonna tell me mom, huh, old man?"

"Old man…?" He took a step forward, cracking with knuckles with a loud _pop._

"S-She don't care! And neither should you!"

"Oh?" Ib could tell how that one syllable frightened all the boys, their shaking hands having nothing to do with the cold. She watched in wonder as the boy quickly scooped a snowball into his hand and threw it at the man's face.

A gloved hand brushed off the fine powder from his nose and a demonic eye peeked out under the long fringe. "Oh? Are you begging for a snowball fight?"

"Y-yeah! I can beat you a-any day!"

"Good. _I'll give you a snowball fight._ " The man kneeled down in the snow, scooping up armfuls of the frosty powder. The boys all took several steps back, arms held up defensively at the tall man's next move. Looking up, he smirked, displaying his left hand to them while continuing to shape a massive boulder with the other. "I'll give you a 5 second head start."

They ran for their lives.

They didn't survive.

Lying on the snow, the boys panted in exhaustion, white flakes and dust decorating their bodies. Ib waited patiently on the playground see-saw when she saw the man shakily walk towards her.

"I-I'm-" He panted out harshly, "S-Sor-"

Ib blinked up at him, realising that despite the cool act that he put up, the man was too tired from chasing the boys to even speak. She nodded, letting him catch his breath.

"I'm terribly sorry," he finally continued, breathing much more levelled, "for my nephew and his band of merry men. I'll make sure he apologises as soon as he gets up."

"Thanks for the rescue," Ib bowed, and when she looked up she found the prettiest smile on the man's face.

"It's cool, Ib-chan. Sorry for all the trouble."

She blinked, not quite as calm as usual, "You know my name?"

"You're the Tachibana's daughter, I believe?" She nodded. "I'm your dad's PA, and he talks about you a lot. So does my nephew."

"I see."

The man went to sit down on the other side of the see-saw and Ib lurched forward to grab the handles. She floated and stayed in mid-air, the man looking up at her grinning. She looked away shyly.

"Say, why didn't you fight the boys back, earlier?"

"I had a snowball in my hand."

"Oh?" His voice was teasing and light now. It was amazing how many different emotions that single syllable could hold.

"If you hadn't come in, I would have fought them off myself."

"Oh. I see." The hint of pride then nearly made her blush, wondering just how he had crushed her wall of reservation with one word. She hid her face with her large scarf, completely calm to the outside world, yet completely gleeful inside.


	13. Maid Cafe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to Carla Bruni's Tout le Monde and L'amour while writing the chapter so have a listen if you want an extra mood setter C:

**Retrouvailles**

_(n.) the happiness of meeting or finding someone again after a long separation (French)_

Garry stared at the _Open_ sign on the door, then the name of the shop, then back to the grinning face of his close friend. He had confided in the man about the lack of flow in his writing lately, worrying that he may hit a block soon. _Leave it to me_ , he had replied.

"You're kidding me."

"No. Just trust me."

"I don't understand you. We're…" He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands, "We're standing in front of a _maid café_. Just how is this inspiration for my writing?"

The man next to him simply grinned wider, giving his exasperated friend a peace sign. "Try a new experience? Sometimes you just have to unwind to let the music flow. Have a cup of coffee; admire your beautiful girlfriend in a maid outfit-"

"—basically, you just wanted to see Madotsuki during your day off."

"Maybe. Today's _kemonomimi_ day too." The writer gaped at him. Masada shrugged his shoulders, winking at Garry's uncomfortable grimace. "Don't judge."

"I won't." He shook his head, "Let's just go in."

With the tinkle of the bell, two young ladies bowed for them, clad in alternative French maid dresses. Garry was shocked into silence, while Masada beamed in adoration at his beloved.

" _Okaerinasaimase, Goshujin-sama."_

Garry stared wide-eyed at the two girls, one with bunny ears and tail, the other with cat ears and tail, Masada's younger girlfriend, Madotsuki. They resembled each other strongly, with large red eyes and the same shade of brown hair. Masada stepped forward, a hand over his heart.

" _Tadaima_. Mado-chan, you look _so_ cute."

The cat girl turned pink, self-consciously adjusting one of the twin braids on her chest. "Ah, sensei."

"I haven't been your piano teacher for over five years now, dear. You're already an adult."

"Shall I show you to your seat, sir?" Garry turned to the smaller of the two maids, the bunny girl, faintly uncomfortable at how she gazed at him so intensely. He observed the stiff shoulders as she steered him into an empty booth, the awkwardness in her steps as she shifted over when the other maid brought Masada to the same table.

"What can I get you both?"

Garry realised that Mado-chan the cat girl seems much more comfortable, probably a mentor of sorts to show the new bunny girl the ropes. They had a quiet charm compared to the other bubbly, upbeat maids that he watched, yet still just as engaging and appealing. Leaving the ordering to Masada, he took out his small notebook from his coat pocket to scribble a few characteristics he noted and swiftly snapped it shut.

As soon as the girls left, Masada turned to Garry, eyebrow arching. _Well?_

"It's… interesting." He rubbed his chin, still admiring how the waitresses handled their patrons. The café had a very ambient atmosphere, cheerful but not over the top with theatrics. The bunny girl came back with their drinks, bowed and left to get the food. Garry examined her posture, finding the aristocratic tilt of her chin and refined air a little strange for a normal college student cosplaying as a maid, presumably for extra pocket money. He quickly jerked his head when his gaze settled on her bunny tail. "Say, Masada."

"What is it, Gar?"

The other man was still enamoured with his own love, smiling at her whenever she looked back at them. Each time, colour would rise to her face and she would plainly ignore him before giving in to the urge again five minutes later. Garry gave him a resigned, yet amused chuckle. "I know what you're doing."

"Oh?" Masada smirked, taking a sip of his drink. He knew him too well. "That wasn't your question, what did you want to ask? What's the bunny girl's name?"

"No. Were our two maids just now… sisters?"

"She's Ib-chan," Masada chuckled at the annoyed look on his face, "Not quite. They're cousins."

"Talking about me, sensei?" the cat girl set their steaming omelette rice on the table, the bunny girl next to her. He shook his head good-naturedly.

"Here's your omelette rice. What would you like us to write or draw, sirs?"

Garry blinked at the bunny girl next to him, a bottle of ketchup in her hands. She stood a little too close. He cleared his throat, shifting further into the booth while she hesitantly stepped back. Inspecting her face closely, his words caught in his throat.

"Master? Are you alright?"

"I..." He looked away, just realising how warm his face was. "Yeah. You can write whatever you like."

"Could you write me something nice, dear?" He vaguely heard Masada, "Something like, you're so cool, sensei! _Daisuke_!"

He glanced at Madotsuki when she let out a breath that suspiciously resembled a short giggle. It was the first time he saw even a remotely cheery expression on her face since he met her. She was an odd one. "Sure, sensei. Here."

Looking down, his bunny girl had just finished her message to him. He stopped breathing. He covered his mouth with his hand, eyes wide and unseeing. Looking up, he held out his hand to her, lips forming words that couldn't be spoken. Swallowing thickly, he stood, before Masada broke him out of his trance.

"That's not nice, Mado-chan."

"You asked for it, _master_."

Madotsuki stepped back, admiring her work. Ib-chan stood stock-still. Garry sat down awkwardly and leaned forward, desperately needing a distraction. He masked his single laugh as a cough, the message sweet yet completely true to Madotsuki's personality. _You're an alien, sensei_ , with an added love heart to soften the blow. Masada tsked, taking his phone out to take a picture of it anyway.

"I don't want to eat it now. It's too cute." Nodding with satisfaction at his picture, he looked over the table to Garry's, "What did you… oh."

Garry looked back at his own plate, the ketchup artistically portraying a single red rose and a jagged circle with what appeared to be a palette knife as its tangent.

"That's _beautiful._ "

"Thank you, master." The bunny girl and Madotsuki bowed before leaving, "Please enjoy your meal."

Garry pushed his plate away a little, hunching in his chair. Masada swallowed the forkful he had taken and blinked at Garry, curious. Pulling the plate towards him, he took a picture of Garry's plate with his phone, mailing it to him. A beeping resounded in the man's pockets.

"There." Garry still made no effort to move. "Go on. Eat. Or does it feel like a shame now?"

The lavender haired man nodded, glancing back at the girl with the bunny ears. His chest felt heavy, but he smiled, taking back his omelette rice. Feeling a penetrating gaze on him again, he looked up and caught her looking his way, before looking elsewhere. Garry looked out the window, conflicted and confused, but at least…

He sneaked a glance back, catching her eye once more. _Ib-chan._ She smiled, tucking her hair back and moved on. He smiled and started on his lunch.

At least he knew where to find the answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I did it. My first Yume Nikki x Ib crossover! To be honest it is my favourite indie horror RPG crossover so you can expect more of these in the future. Writer!Garry makes a reappearance C: But this isn't a prequel to SiA because Ib is not the right age, she is about 20 here :3 The italicised Japanese words are translated below for your convenience:
> 
> Kemonomimi - Describes humanoid characters that possess animal-like features
> 
> Okaerinasaimase, Goshujin-sama - Welcome home, master
> 
> Tadaima - I'm home
> 
> Sensei - Teacher
> 
> Daisuke - I love you very much


	14. Bread Shop

**Trygghet**

_(n.) safety and security, with a calm, cozy and peaceful feeling from all uncomfortable or unpleasant things in one's job, home and family (Swedish)_

In one night, her entire world collapsed.

The Great Recession left Japan's economy gloomy. Many multi-billionaire companies like her mother's scrambled to keep afloat and her father's was to the point of bankruptcy. Half the number of staff disappeared from the house. Their prized furniture, paintings and ornaments vanishing one by one in order to sustain at least the roof over their heads.

Ib watched from the sidelines, nodding and accepting as her family's standard of living descended in a fever pitch. She accepted it as her parents discussed the negative growth in their businesses in harsh whispers; their eyes began to dull from too sleepless many nights. The weary depths turned to her as her eyes only grew brighter, stronger, kindling a shrewd sense far too mature for her age.

They weren't the only ones who noticed. She always knew people in school and around the city found her strange, the words _witch, demon_ and others were thrown carelessly around. This time it is was almost poetic. People gave her a new title; all around her she could feel it caressed against her skin.

The girl with the eyes of fire

She stood, leaning against the brick wall, sighing as the cold December rain pattered on her hooded sweater and jeans. A little girl of twelve should have worn much more coming outside, but she hadn't _meant_ to run. She was just being a good daughter, helping her parents. Dumping off the garbage in front, she had spotted a few neighbourhood bullies.

They spotted her too.

Quick as lightning she darted off, not staying to listen to them or take a closer look at the metal baseball bats they carried with them.

Where was she? She didn't even have proper shoes on, only the light shoes she slipped on for a quick trip outside. Slumping to the ground, Ib huddled herself into a small ball, too cold to move. She rubbed her face against her shoulder, noting just how dirty she had gotten from the chase. She had tripped on far too many things, ending up in town and sneaking into a nearby alleyway just to lose them.

Her head jerked upwards at a sudden shouting nearby, finally realising there was a door further into the alley to her right. It opened violently and a lanky man stumbled outside, barely keeping his balance on the steps. He growled back at the person behind the door.

"Just how many God damn bread are you gonna burn, idiot? Throw that thing away! Come back in when you aren't such a damn klutz!"

Ib pressed herself into the wall, praying he wouldn't see her. The door slammed shut and the tall man sighed, running a hand through his dark locks. Thunder rumbled in the sky and he looked up, the small awning above the door at least keeping him semi-dry. She noticed the loaf of bread under his lean arm, the sight making her lick her lips hungrily. She would have missed the hot supper waiting for her at home and her stomach protested at the thought. The growl seemed to echo. Her arms tightened around her middle, fearing the loud grumble gave her away.

The man turned to her direction.

"Who's there?"

She stood up shakily, revealing her presence to him. It would have been futile to run. He looked in her direction, probably seeing her soaked form and thinking she was a vagrant. The man opened the door and stuck his hand inside, the lamp outside abruptly shining into her face.

She squinted, shielding her face with her arms. She lowered them at the sharp intake of a breath, blinking to adjust to the brightness. The man was young, with a kind face and familiar features. She must have look like a mess.

"Come here."

She timidly walked to him, fear lessening with each step. The awning above relieved her from the most of the rain. He took the bread under his arm, only burnt at one side, and offered it to her. She really did must have looked like a vagrant or a runaway child.

"It's too burnt for my brother's bread shop, but would you like to take it? It's still pretty fresh… and warm too." She looked at him, alarmed by the offer, shaking her head to refuse him. He simply smiled and nodded, practically pushing it into her arms. "C'mon. You need it more than the rubbish bin does."

"T-Thank you."

"I have to get back, but I'll leave the light out for you. You're welcome to stay here until you want to go home."

She watched him give her a final smile before slipping back through the door and into the warmth of the kitchen. Ib looked at the fresh loaf of bread in her hands and tore off a piece, feeding her starving body. She almost cried from how good it tasted, her last meal being several hours ago. She had to remind herself to chew, tearing bit by bit of the loaf until about half of it remained. Stuffing the rest into the giant pocket of her hooded sweater, she looked out at the night above and smiled at how it had finally cleared. The patter of the rain had finally stopped.

Ib gasped when the door banged behind her. It opened and she reflexively jumped back. She missed the steps completely and fell flat on the ground. The young man from before slipped around the door and muffled a horrified scream. He quickly helped her up.

"I am so sorry, that door is difficult to open and these steps are a health hazard, I swear." She muttered soft thanks to him but sad nothing else. He held up a red umbrella for her and a rather large sweater under his other arm. "Looks like the rains stopped, but you'll catch your death if you want around in that, at least put this on."

Ib violently shook her head, refusing to accept anymore of his kindness by taking his things as well as his bread. "I don't want to-"

"Bother me?"

She pouted. "I don't want to steal your sweater."

He chuckled back at her. "It's not stealing if I'm offering. Besides." He pulled her close and wrapped the fabric around her anyway, almost engulfing her in material, "You could always return it."

She nodded, just wanting to go home after such a terrible day. She felt him slip a business card into her pocket as well as something small and round too. She took a step back, looking him in the eyes.

He nodded back. He watched her walk out of the alley and turned left, entering the streets of the city. He just prayed she would be safe on her own. The man with the bread thought of the girl with the eyes of fire, smiling to himself, knowing he would see her again soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, a Hunger Games... AU... crossover... thing :3 I went there. Girl with the eyes of... fire *badum tsss* ahaha...ha... *loud sobbing noises* One day I suddenly thought up the first line and I just had to grab that muse and run away with it. Here is the result.


	15. Manor Party

**Kutitap**

_(n.) the glittering, sparkling and scintillating flashes of tiny, numerous lights (Filipino)_

Garry glanced left and right, scratching his head at the labyrinth of corridors he had somehow walked into. Why was this house so damn big? He swore he had walked past Van Gogh's Starry Night piece at least four times now. He hung his head low and turned left, hoping if he kept walking, he would surely end up out of the house somewhere.

' _If you could even consider this a house, it's more like a manor.'_

He couldn't even remember by now exactly why he was visiting. All he knew was that his aunt called him and told him to come here to replace her son as his representative. She even sent him a dashing tux for the evening. Even though his cousin was a Duke, he was far more humble in his lifestyle compared to the rest of his family. He wasn't used to such lavish parties or large houses.

Was that… a balcony?

Garry almost cried upon finding it, opening the door and rushing out to feel the cool sting of the winter frost, a welcome relief from the burning build-up inside. It seemed he was only on the first floor, and there were plenty of bushes below him. Garry looked to his left and contemplated following the entwining vines down, before shaking his head. He didn't want to break anything, sure that it still wouldn't hold his light weight.

Swinging his legs over the marble railing, he steadily, slowly, lowered himself by his hands until his leather shoes could just barely scrape the top of the taller bushes. He swung his legs out, clambering to avoid damaging the rose bushes and the bulbs of thousands of Christmas lights. He let go, he fell. Garry rolled to his side and groaned in pain, but decided nothing was broken.

Getting up, Garry blinked at the beauty of the lit gardens, dazzling flowers and plants enchanting him. The strings and strings of Christmas lights were almost ethereal. He walked further into the gardens, admiring each plant he passed, the arrangement laying down a sort of path for him. His memory of the front gate was fuzzy, but he remembered there were a lot of flowers too, so this must be it.

Spotting an iron wrought gate ahead guarded by two large hedges, he grinned, thanking his luck. He frowned at how hard they were to pull though, putting in as much strength as he could muster to pry them open. Stepping through, Garry's eyes widened as he looked left and right, suddenly realising his horrible mistake. The gate slammed shut with a loud click.

' _Oh.'_

He was trapped inside another labyrinth… again.

What is _wrong_ with this place?

Garry scratched his head and simply picked to go right this time. If he kept walking long enough, he would surely find the exit at the other side. Hopefully the gate wouldn't be as old, rusted or heavy as the one he had encountered earlier. If the plan failed, he would simply have to scream and shout for help, regardless of embarrassing himself. It was embarrassing enough he mistook a hedge maze gate for the main entrance.

He didn't find the other side.

He found the centre.

He found a girl.

They stare at each other in shock and silence. Garry breathed as lightly as possible to avoid triggering any panicked screaming from her. He suppressed his own scream; the girl had such _surreal_ eyes and her skin was ghostly pale even with the intricate lamp glowing right next to her.

"Who are you?" her voice was demanding, sharp, on-edge.

"N-No one… really." He shrugged, displaying his open palms and a more relaxed posture, hoping it would calm her down. "Just a poor lost soul."

"Who _are_ you?"

"I-I'm Garry, Duke Rin's cousin… here as his… representative…?"

"Oh." She must have recognised the name. The girl in the crimson dress visibly relaxed, sitting back down on the bench beside a marble fountain. He noticed her bare feet, white heels kicked into the gravel nearby. "I'm Ib."

The name rung inside of him and he finally remembered his purpose here, what little alcohol he had in his system finally clearing. She was the _birthday girl_. This was her coming of age party thrown by her parents.

"May I sit here?" She nodded hesitantly, shifting a little further from him. "Happy birthday, princess."

"Don't call me that." She snapped.

Silence made the air heavy, Garry shuffled his feet. "Not joining the party?"

She scowled, tugging on a lock of her long wavy hair. Her voice was quiet as she spoke. "I don't even like parties, I'm not as special as everyone thinks I am. It's all my parents doing."

"Isn't that because you're special to them-" He was stopped short at her quiet sneeze. He finally noticed her bare trembling shoulders, how her arm wrapped itself against her. Garry began to take off his blazer and the young lady squealed, sliding as further away from him as possible.

"W-what are you do-?"

"Here." He held the blazer up, not wanting to scare her as much as he's already done. She gingerly took it from his hand, draping it across her shoulders. He smiled at how she immediately stopped shivering. "Better?"

She nodded as the quiet became more comfortable than before. They sat in silence together, watching the fountain water swirl. Garry stared with hooded eyes, lulled by its gentle rhythm, but he could still feel her shy glances every now and then. He resisted the urge to chuckle at her subtle sniffing of his blazer. He was rather glad he chose to wear his more expensive cologne tonight. Her careful gaze lay longer this time, not even hiding what she was doing.

"What is it?" He finally asked.

"It's… nothing. It's just… Have we-?"

An explosion of fireworks danced in the air, Ib snapped her mouth shut. Garry stared at their majesty beauty, yet still noticing how the younger girl looked at her lap despondently, having never finished her sentence. Despite his confusion, Garry continued to watch the firework display, never tiring of the scintillating colours. Just as the final star burst in the sky, Garry caught Ib hopping to her feet, quickly stepping into her heels.

He stood, facing her back, unsure of what to say. Perhaps she needed space, he should probably leave now. "Well, I guess this is-"

"Garry, wait."

She turned and darted towards him. She placed her hands on his chest, stood on the tip of her toes and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. He could feel his face heating, his expression stunned in place as he gaped at her, utterly confused at what was happing. She sank back to her normal height, face hidden under the cover of her fringe. She slowly lifted her hands of his shirt, fingers rubbing against each other at the warmth. "I… what?"

" _Ib dear!"_

" _Ib! Where are you?"_

They both turned to the voices, presumably a search party for the guest of honour.

"See you." She nodded at him, giving a small curtsey before running off, blazer flaring out behind her.

Garry sat back down on the bench, shock slowly wearing out and a small smile forming at the sweet gesture. He stood up once more and tucked his hands onto his trouser pockets; the night was getting colder by the second. Walking to the entrance of the centre circle, his face suddenly drained of colour, his hands in his pockets gripping at nothing but his house and car keys.

 _Crap._ His phone was in his blazer.

He laughed dryly at his luck, elated that he may see the darling back in the house, but terrified at the prospect of explaining what had happened to his phone to her parents. Either way, he walked on. If he got lost again, _screw his family name,_ he would ask for help. If he kept walking, he was bound to reach his destination soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Directionally-challenged Garry makes me happy *heart*


	16. College Library

**Palvi**

_(n.) a snowless patch of ground in otherwise snow covered terrain, seen usually in the start of spring when the snow begins to melt (Finnish)_

_The Crippling Red Herring_

_Birds, Cats and Social Stigmas of Local Artists_

_Impressionists never Lie_

Ib smiled dryly at the titles and pushed them back into the bookshelves, sick of any and every book about art theory at the moment. Her job as assistant librarian wasn't as de-stressing as she had hoped it would be after she had walked out of the exam hall.

Pulling along her book cart, Ib checked the author's initials of the next set, tucking the respective books under her arms. She pushed up her red under-rim glasses and pulled out the wooden stool she kept in the cart, especially useful for this sort of situation.

Ib looked up at the shelf these books belonged to and gulped, her lips set in a grim line.

Curse her short stature.

Grabbing the three thick books written by the same author _(Beauty and the Painter, Cinders of Art, How to paint the colours of the Wind)_ Ib climbed onto her stool, suddenly aware of how wobbly it had become. It wasn't this extreme before. She straightened delicately, balancing herself until she was up to her full height. She sighed in relief.

Ib looked up… and a low whine resounded in her throat. The shelf was still too high, but she couldn't get the ladder without the librarian, and she knew for a fact the old man had already retired for the evening. There were barely any students left in the library after finals were over. Once they left though, they dumped their books wherever they felt like, leaving Ib to clean up after them and restore the books to their proper sanctuaries. The librarian had already trusted her to finish up on her own.

Perhaps if she stretched… or tip-toed…

Ib bit her lip and tucked one book under her arm, cradled another to her chest and left the last one in her hand. She took a deep breath and stretched upwards, standing on her toes, landing the edge of the book onto its shelf. She swallowed thickly and stretched even further, her leg sticking out to balance her weight. She pressed herself against the bookcase, using every fibre of her being to… just… reach…

Her finger strained to push it in.

Almost….

The stool moaned, giving way under her. She tipped back. She lost her balance. Ib squealed as she crashed down, frames flying, books dropping everywhere. She braced herself for the hard ground which… never came?

Her heartbeat roared in her ears, but that pained groan was not hers. Ib opened her eyes to the dim light of the evening library, and sat up, rubbing her eyes, disorientated. Looking down, Ib blinked once, twice, three times and turned a bright pink when she realised that she was looking at the full back pockets of a person's jeans.

"I am so-" Her sentence cut off as the person under her tried to sit up, but immediately gave up when they felt her weight straddled on their waist. "I-" She swung her legs over and scrambled off, patting around the ground for her glasses. "—am _so_ sorry."

Ib tugged at the back of her skirt, embarrassed beyond measure, despite the navy tights shielding her legs. She heard the person shuffle about, rolling their shoulders and murmuring under their breath. Where were her spectacles? She hoped she hadn't stepped on them, or crushed them with her knees, or—

"Here."

She turned to the sound of the deep voice, a blurry figure offering their hand to her. She gasped when she felt her glasses and immediately placed them back on. Her lips trembled in worry, her eyes were glossy and she hadn't a clue what to say. She bowed low onto the ground, praying he wouldn't be mad at her.

"I'm-"

"Red." She looked up to a dazed expression blinking at her. Was he… talking about her face, her eyes or her glasses? The man sat cross-legged across her and she internally screamed when she recognised him. He was one of the younger professors. She would recognise that hair anywhere. He smiled slowly at her bewildered face, her rapid blinking and her breathing not quite steady. He stood up and offered her a hand. She climbed to her feet without it and repeatedly bowed, nothing but apologies coming out of her lips.

"It's okay. It was my fault too." She looked at him owlishly and he grinned prettily back, nothing but kindness in his eyes. "My nose was deep in my book, I wasn't looking where I was going either."

"I'm terribly sorry for injuring you."

"I'm not injured at all."

Ib nodded and kneeled down to collect her fallen books, thanking the heavens above for the fact they weren't damaged at all. A pair of larger hands took the stack from her arms and the professor smiled, "I can help you out with these if you like. Where do they go?"

She pointed to the high shelf that she had struggled to reach before and he nodded, stepping cautiously on the stool, testing out his weight. Lifting himself up, he pointed to the shelf again and waited for her approval. She nodded. The professor had no problem putting the books back to their old home. He was at least a head and a half taller than her. The top of her head barely reached his collarbone earlier.

"Done."

"Thank you so much, sir."

"Say," he rubbed his chin, scrutinising her face. Ib felt herself blush again and he grinned, probably amused by the different shades of red her face could produce. "You seem familiar. Have I ever taught you before?"

She shook her head, although she knew him by the multiple gossip circles around the library about _that gorgeous teacher_ or _how they would love him to teach them with those long fingers of him._ Ib felt herself flush even further with the last thought and he had the audacity to laugh, clearly enjoying reading her so openly.

When she was younger, her face was never as expressive as it is now. She wondered how she had become so honest.

"We're... ah." She coughed, looking out of the nearby windows to distract him. The sky was darkening, the streetlamps outside beginning to glow. Snow had begun to fall again, the white powder covering the ground like icing sugar. "We're closing the library."

"I see." He brushed the dust of a book spine, yet made no effort to move his own feet. After a few seconds of painful silence, he turned to her again. "Would you like to join me when you're done? I was going to get some macaroons and coffee."

Her eyes widened, whether it be the sudden familiarity or the offer she didn't know. He watched her closer still, like he was seeking some sort of answer from her expression.

Ib gave a small smile, keeping the stool in the cart. "I'll go after I finish my rounds."

He opened the book he was reading and set off to a nearby table, sitting down to make himself comfortable. "I'll wait for you."

"Sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually do more research, but I was too lazy this time so those book titles are completely made up. Don't quote me on Art Theory because I have no idea how it works uw u Apologies for inaccuracies if college libraries aren't like this at all, either.


	17. Apartment Complex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas special of this fic :3

**Koi no Yokan**

_(n.) lit. "Premonition of Love"; the sense one can have upon first meeting another person that the two of them are going to fall in love. This differs from the idea "Love at first sight" in that it does not imply that the feeling of love exists, rather it refers to the knowledge that a future love is inevitable (Japanese)_

Garry had never met his neighbour before, despite living just next door for the past six months.

Every time he came home from work, he would only spot her back turning on the other stairwell, her long hair flying out behind her. He would only see glimpses, but her refined clothes and high heels made her even more eccentric than the other neighbours rumoured her to be.

On the twenty fifth day of June, the first day he moved in, he knocked on her door with the intention to introduce himself, even baking a pie for her. He stared at her name tag, _Tachibana,_ in beautiful penmanship. After knocking, standing and waiting for several minutes, one of the other residents came out, an old woman, and told what little she knew about his neighbour.

_She hasn't talked to anyone but the landlord since she came here a year ago._

_She only works at night._

_She doesn't even answer her door during the day._

Garry wrapped the pie in cling film, set it on one of his retractable tables next to her door, left a note and went back into his apartment. When he went out for lunch, it was still there. When he came back, the pie and note was gone, replaced with another message in her cursive flourish.

_Thank you._

Since that day, he respected her need for privacy. He continued only with only fleeting glimpses in the evenings.

On the fifteenth day of August, he became terribly ill, taking several days off work to recover. In the early morning when he couldn't sleep, Garry lay on his white sofa, staring at the ceiling. He heard a door shut heavily next door, breaking whatever attempt he tried to doze off. Glancing at the clock, it was five in the morning.

What she did for a living, he could only wonder. She left a stunning impression through all their brief encounters, being noticeably far younger than him too. So what kind of job employed young, beautiful women at night? Garry blew out the puff of smoke and stubbed his cigarette the ashtray on the floor. She _couldn't_ be. She looked far too elegant and modest to be in that field of work.

Then again, when people look at him, they didn't exactly see a draftsman in an architectural firm. People simply assumed he was a bum, a model, or a fashion designer and moved on. Assumptions always plagued his life; he wouldn't do that to his mysterious neighbour either.

On the first day on December, right before he headed off for work, there was a couple outside of his door. They were talking in soft tones, staring out from the railings and looked at him as soon as his door opened. Garry stepped back, eyes wide with surprise. "May I help you?"

The man in a navy business suit smiled, shaking his hand. "I'm Roy Tachibana and this is my wife, Cosette." The woman nodded her head at him, her regal features striking him as foreign compared to the usual Japanese characteristics. He knew for a fact he had never met these people before, but his mind deemed them familiar. "We're very sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but are you close to our daughter? Today was the only day we could come to see her. She knew we were coming yet she doesn't seem to want to open the door for us."

"Well I…" Garry ran a hand through his hair and looked at his watch, wondering if he could still make it to the train station in time. "I baked her pie once."

Tachibana's mother furrowed her eyebrows at the statement.

"I mean, I'm not close but I could, well, try." Garry locked the door to his own apartment, making sure he had everything with him. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on his neighbour's door, glancing at her name tag. "Tachibana-san, your parents are here."

There was no reply. Garry bit his lip, wondering if her parents knew about her late-night occupation. He sure as hell wouldn't be the one to tell them. He tapped his finger on his chin and then dug into his coat pocket for his notebook and pen. He wrote her a short message and tore it out of his notebook, slipping it under her door.

"Excuse me sir, but do you have a place to stay in the meantime?" They nodded. "Perhaps she's simply sleeping in this morning if she knows you're coming. You could always leave her a message on her phone and maybe she'll get back to you."

Roy Tachibana nodded and shook his hand once again, thanking him. Garry nodded, glancing at his watch, peeking at the name tag of his neighbour and sighed, wishing he could somehow understand her.

On the second day of December, he met them again, this time in the evening, as he came home from another long day of work. He held up a hand to greet them and they smiled back, thanking him for his troubles yesterday. There was a hint of sadness in their expression, but he made no mention of it. Instead, he offered them tea in his own house and they agreed. Half an hour later, he heard his neighbour's door lock with an audible click and the sound of heeled footsteps rushing outside.

The Tachibanas made no remark of it, and neither did he. He only prayed she wouldn't trip and hurt herself.

On the twenty-fourth night of December, Garry didn't feel like coming home to an empty house. He strolled through the bright streets of Tokyo city, entering one of the many Hostess Clubs littered around the area. He was introduced to lovely ladies who eased his loneliness, just talking to him and asking why such a dashing man like him didn't have an equally gorgeous woman by his side. He simply laughed, clueless himself.

After a few hours, the hostess switched places with another one and Garry dropped his glass of wine in shock. He had observed those regal features on another older face, but they were just as prominent on hers. Her lips were fuller, her skin still radiantly clear from any sort of lines, her eyes bigger and brighter.

On the twenty-fifth day of December, on Christmas morning, he sat on his sofa, admiring the sleeping face of his beautiful neighbour. They had conversed more last night than the entire six months he had known her, every fear and assumption falling apart. Her eccentricities made sense, the puzzle pieces falling into piece. She was like one of those milk puzzles that he didn't seem to bother with younger, but took up again when he grew up.

He smiled and looked away when her eyelashes fluttered, walking off to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for them both.

"Good morning." He looked back at her sleepy, yet content expression, sitting up and stifling her yawn. She wrapped the blankets tighter around herself and smiled daintily at him, child-like wonder decorating her face as she spotted his small decorated tree in the corner of the room.

"Merry Christmas."

He grinned back and set the pancake batter down. He passed her a glass of orange juice and sat beside her. He sipped on his own coffee and smiled at her, his heart almost skipping a beat when swept her hair back, a few strands falling out of place. She couldn't be more gorgeous if she tried.

"Merry Christmas."


	18. Animal Shelter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the first piece in forever to actually be anywhere near the original length limit, I am pleased. Sassy mama Ib makes a return.

**Querencia**

_(n.) a place from which one's strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self (Spanish)_

Ib tugged at the bottom of her shirt, brows furrowed at the thought of deciding which animal to pick. Each time she visited, her mind only grew more puzzled. Her mother stood behind her, hands clasped in front and eyes scrutinising every animal in the shelter. Ib heard the steady tapping of her mother's finger against her handbag and bit her lip, mid racing at the possibilities.

"How about the puppy?"

"Well…" Ib moved on, twirling a strand of her hair. Her mother nodded, stepping back, letting her decide on her new pet at a more comfortable pace, consciously gripping her bag handle. The caretaker watched the little girl inspect each animal closely, arms crossed, more amused than tired. He had never met someone as meticulous.

"So, has she decided on a certain type of pet, madam?"

"My husband and I talked to her, but she's still indecisive. I was hoping she would pick something small that she can take care of."

"I see. What kind of pet does she want?"

"She likes rabbits, but I don't think our gardeners would appreciate them. We don't think hamsters are suitable either because we'd like her to roam the house instead of just staying in her room."

The caretaker blinked at the word gardener, wondering just how wealthy this particular client was. She wasn't as open in their previous conversations. "I'm sure she'll find a friend she likes." Ib's mother smiled warmly at him and looked back at her child, sighing.

"She's pretty picky though."

"I'll help her out."

The man crouched next to her and smiled. Ib took a step back, peeking at his name tag pinned to his shirt. She avoided his eyes, but nodded her head out of respect. "Garry-san."

"I told you before, you can call me onii-chan, dear." She nodded, hands fiddling with themselves. "Is it really so difficult to choose one pet? You've been here at least four times now."

Ib looked up at her mother in surprise and the woman simply nodded, a tired look on her face. She pouted, shyly stealing another glance at the man and looked back at the white cat. Its fur was snow white and had Jade eyes that shone like molten liquid.

"How about this one? She's only three months old." Ib stared at the kitten, entranced by its soft mewls and the way it would rub itself against its cage door. Ib slowly stuck in her pinkie between the bars and the sweet creature held up its paw, cautiously patting her finger before placing letting it stay. Ib gasped in joy, her eyes brightening. "She was found just a few days ago, right after you left. She's up for adoption now."

"She's… very pretty."

"So? How about it?" He winked, reassuring her it was the right decision to make. She gave a small smile, her fringe and long thick locks covering a good portion of her face.

"I like her."

"You'll like her even more when she's got a puffy red ribbon around her neck, running everywhere with you in the house."

"Garry-san." Ib heard her mother clear her throat and faced her, watching her arch a brow at the caretaker. He grinned at the silent statement in the air between them. _Don't push her, it's her decision._ Ib turned to the kitten, thinking of a name.

"I like her!" Ib repeated, alternating between the kind man and her mother, the man staring at her sudden rise in volume. "Can I adopt her?"

Her mother sighed in relief and the man nodded, tucking his purple hair back away from his lone eye. "Sure. Let's get the paperwork done."

Half an hour later, Ib sat on the plastic chair, a sleepy kitten curled up on her lap. The little girl stroked her back, revelling in just how soft the fur was. She had decided to call the angel Mika, the characters meaning _beautiful splendour_ , with the help of her mother.

"Happy with your new family?"

The caretaker crouched down in front of her, that really nice smile on his face, Ib nodded slowly, staring at his shoes instead of his face. She smiled to herself, content. "Can we…" She looked to her mother, who sat down next to her. "Can we… have lunch with the nice onii-chan?"

Her mother stared at her before bursting into giggles, hugging her daughter tight, careful not to squash the kitten too. "If the nice onii-chan agrees," she glanced at his dumbfounded and pink face, "I don't see why not."


	19. Stairwell Landing

**Apricity**

_(n.) the warmth of the sun on a cold winter's day (English)_

"A word, please."

Garry looked up to the head teacher, who was staring down at his desk. The lavender haired man gave a nervous chuckle, putting down the small present box he was admiring earlier. The older man took the empty seat of the desk beside him, looking at him intently. Garry forced a smile, nodding awkwardly.

"Happy birthday."

"Oh." He breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank you-"

"But it's getting a bit out of hand, don't you think?"

Garry gave a resigned sigh, turning to the small pile that had gathered on his desk. The other teachers had looked on, some sneered and some chuckled light-heartedly. There had never been a teacher as popular as Garry in the tuition centre's history. "I told them not to yesterday, but they didn't listen to me."

"And you wonder why? _'An English teacher as attractive as a supermodel who's also in charge of a music college's orchestra, he's got a heart, and a wicked sense of humour.'_ That's all I've been hearing since you've come here last month." The older man broke into a grin as the curly haired teacher turned pink, fiddling with his watch.

"I'm _partly_ in charge of that music college's orchestra. Those kids-"

"' _Suave and totally in control in class despite time constraints, he's such a cool teacher!'"_ He grinned wider at the apparent embarrassment on the younger man's face; Garry was completely red, stock-still, rapidly blinking. "It's not your fault you're so damn charming. However, tone it down a little, will you? Let's not get them distracted."

He nodded and the head teacher clapped him on the shoulder, getting up. "Happy birthday, again. Go take a break outside before your next class."

"Thank you, sir." Garry stacked the essays he needed to mark together in a neat pile for later, gathered the presents and shrugged on his coat. He walked out of the staffroom and waved back at a couple of students greeting him.

He really didn't have a clue about those popular opinion clarified by the head teacher here. All he knew was that his students generally enjoyed his lessons during their winter break, striving hard with him to enter the college of their dreams. They were friendly towards him, but he hadn't realised his popularity before today. The pile of presents that he had locked in his desk drawer was getting ridiculously large.

Garry decided to take the less popular corridor and stairwell, hopefully encountering fewer students through that route. He had no intention to add to the growing pile of gifts.

Opening the heavy, creaking door to the stairwell, he made his way down before hearing voices and footsteps making their way up. Garry suppressed a groan and continued his way, albeit as slowly as possible, swinging his legs side to side before each step, delaying the inevitable. It was useless turning back; they would have heard the door.

"Ah, sensei!"

There it was.

Garry looked up and plastered a smile on his face. Hiding his exhaustion from the students was another perk of the job and he was a man that was easily exhausted. That fake smile, however, quickly dropped and glowed into a genuine one as he gave a short wave to the girls who greet him, meeting them on the landing.

"Suzuki. Tachibana." The girl with the high ponytail gave a bright smile, nudging her shy friend forward. His eyes melted just a little at the girl with a red scarf wrapped loosely around her neck and hiding part of her face, nodding at him in greeting.

"Happy birthday!" Suzuki sang in her clear voice, her cheerfulness infectious to even him. She gave him a quick wink. "Sensei, Tachibana-chan has something for you."

"Hm?"

"Suzuki-san!" The girl weakly protested, turning even redder under her thick layers.

"It's fine! You put in so much effort too." Garry's smile faltered at the direction this conversation was going in, especially after the talk with the head teacher just now. "C'mon, I'll leave you to it. See you later, sensei."

"Suzuki, wait!" The older girl shrunk even further into her scarf, eyes staring at the floor dejectedly. She jumped when Garry placed a hand on her shoulder, smiling at her reassuringly. She scuffed her toe against the floor and he retracted his arm slowly, not wanting to leave any strange impressions.

"Don't let her teasing bother you, Tachibana-san."

"It doesn't. Sensei."

"Hm?"

Ib unzipped her bag and took a large package out of her bag, wrapping paper depicting pink roses set against a starry night sky, tied with a silver ribbon. Garry's mouth dropped at the size of the package, panicking internally at how he could sneak _that_ into the staffroom. "Here, open it."

"Now?"

"Yeah."

Garry carefully loosened the ribbon, picking delicately at the cello tape, careful not to tear the beautiful wrapping paper. What greeted him inside stilled him. He opened his mouth to speak, yet no words came to him. He snapped it shut, remembering to breath.

"Do you like it?"

He scooped up the woolly fabric, awed by the craftsmanship of it. It was a long blue scarf, thick and strangely warm. It felt hand-knitted, with small holes if he looked carefully enough. Did _she_ do this? He draped the material around his neck, and then he noticed them. Whilst the rest of the scarf was a deep, dark blue, a single rose with a lighter hue decorated both ends. The colour was intimately entwined with his heart, reminding him of tragic times, of beautiful times, of times that were completely extraordinary. He finished wrapping the scarf around his neck and smiled at her doe-eyes, slightly glossy eyed himself.

"I..." He coughed, becoming incredibly emotional embarrassingly quickly. "Thank you, it's beautiful. Did you make this?"

She nodded, pushing down her own scarf, revealing the shy smile on her own face. "See you later, sensei."

He watched her until she passed him, when he noticed the ends of her own scarf. A lighter red rose decorated them. He tied the silver ribbon around his wrist and folded the wrapping paper carefully, tucking it into his coat pocket.

Garry chuckled lightly to himself, stroking the fabric of his favourite birthday gift of all time. She was amazing. There was someone else who had to tone down their unintentional charming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, Garry-sensei makes his return, albeit in a different universe.


	20. Art Gallery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written on the New Year's Eve of 2013. Wow, time sure flies

**Duende**

_(n.) the feeling of profound awe experienced when viewing a piece of art, watching a performance, or listening to the music that has deeply moved a person (Spanish)_

Ib walked through these familiar halls, still as pristinely white as the day she'd seen horror, the day she'd seen beauty in different, magnificent forms. The glass cage that held a world she could never return did not appear, for which she counted her blessings. The art works that once consumed and haunted her were no longer up for display, kept to rest and sleep until their time would one day come again.

For now, a new king had seized the throne.

She had seen his rise to prominence as she grew from an impressionable child to the shrewd adult she became now. She had tried, several times, to meet the person dubbed _one of the greatest_ minds in modern art, but she successively failed. He wasn't as eccentric and agoraphobic as some of history's creative minds, but he wasn't as open about his life as other celebrities were now. The man didn't fit into any archetype, being unique in his own right. The artist was famous in the painting and the sculpting worlds, both iconic and prolific in his works.

Ib could only look back and sigh at her naivety and innocence, never realising until later exactly how much he meant to _her_ world too.

Ib admired each masterpiece closely, examining exactly just what is was that made him so irrevocably separate from the rest of the world, no matter what he did. Every one of his strokes seemed planned, every colour deliberately highlighting and bringing out the rest. She wondered if he ever became tired, tired of constant creation.

She walked on, through the gorgeous impressionistic works, through the still-life pieces, through the statues and sculptures until she found the highlight of the New Year special art exhibition. Ib took in a deep breath, her eyes glittering with unshed tears at the piece.

_An Eternal Blossom_

Ib blinked up at the sculpture of a girl so closely intertwined with a rose, she couldn't tell whether the young beauty was a human or a flower herself. Thorns and vines wrapped around her intimately, but closed eyes indicated peace, not pain. Leaves and petals trailed through and decorated her skin like whimsical anthousai. Jagged leaves sprouted from her back, resembling the wings of an angel. From the girl's chest, however, bloomed a large, single rose, red and brilliant. The girl herself was made of scintillating materials, reflecting the myriad of colours shimmering in the lights directed towards her.

The way the light beams danced through her still, chestnut hair achingly reminded Ib of someone else, but the blooming rose alluded her distinctly of another piece, by a man whose name will never leave her. When she looked at the sculpture, she felt sorrowful, but an undertone of hope lied in the girl's peaceful face, comforting her.

"You're beautiful."

There weren't many visitors with the exhibition just opening. She sighed, a restless tension building inside of her. She tucked a strand of her long fringed back behind her ear, remembering soft, warm hands that would teasingly pat her head.

"I remember you," she whispered to herself, laying a hand over her heart. "Do you… remember me?"

"I do."

Ib's back straightened at that deep voice, and turned around to see her nearly unobtainable dream materialise right in front of her. She swore she never seen a more child-like wonder, the artist exuding almost unimaginable amounts of pure joy through that smile of his alone. She couldn't stay away from his gaze, having forgotten their hypnotic qualities since she was a child.

He walked to her slowly, his eyes shining like molten silver. She still couldn't move, taking in a shuddering breath. She couldn't say a word, for none could express what she wanted to tell him, how much she's missed him, how much she wanted to just hold him and simply never let go.

"Hi."

She sighed, almost breaking down on the spot. How did he do that? He had shattered her wall of reservation with just a few words. She was fighting to keep her emotions at bay, gritting her teeth in conflict.

"Hi."

One moment, they were staring at each other in shock and happiness. In the next, he had stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her waist tightly. She pressed him closer to her, arms encircling him in whatever way she could. She leaned her head forward and breathed him in, her hands trailing up his chest and behind his neck. She felt how his thumb gently caressed the outline of her spine, a strange comfort to her. He could feel how her head tilted until it lay completely on his shoulder. He could feel how she entrusted herself to him and she could feel him do the same for same.

All too soon, he broke away and grinned, stroking her cheek gently, still holding her other hand. One tear drop trailed down her cheek, before another followed, and another. Big fat drops cascading down her face, despite how her regal features glowed genuinely from joy.

"Do you like her?"

Ib nodded, bouncing her head several times. She couldn't make a sound, gasping for breath, holding in the sobs that wrecked through her body. She held her chin up high in that aristocratic tilt, refusing to lose her pride. Their hands clasped tightly together, fingers lacing and intertwined.

"I made her for you, dedicated to you, the girl with the eyes of fire, a rose blooming in her wholesome body. Do you remember… Ib? _Everything_?" The older man was breaking down himself. Ib half giggled, half sobbed, overcome with happiness as the artist sniffled and rubbed his eyes. They must have made quite a sight together, faces red and wet, a tale unspoken between the two of them. "I'm glad... I'm glad you like her."

"I'm glad I got to see you again, Garry." Ib finally collected herself, speech coming more easily, blossoming like a flower once more, "I've missed you, I really have."

"Me too," He wrapped an arm around her, and she around him. Although they could not replace the years lost to their separated distance, they would have many more to come to shorten that distance, until their laced fingers could no longer be undone and their heartbeats beat as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you notice that certain phrases seem familiar in this chapter, you're absolutely right :3 I scattered some of my favourite lines from all the other chapters into this one, sort of a commemoration of my efforts for this story. See if you can spot them all. Point out any mistakes, please. I started this with the intention for it to be just a side-project for fun, but 10 planned chapters turned into 12, then 15, and finally 20 realised chapters were written. It was an extraordinary journey, one that I will cherish and learn from. I shall be back with more stories to share soon enough, so take care x


End file.
